


Home Is Not A Place

by ObsidiansChild



Series: The Reformation of Eliot Waugh [5]
Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Original Character Death(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24521458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidiansChild/pseuds/ObsidiansChild
Summary: Eliot gets news that one of his brothers has died.
Relationships: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh
Series: The Reformation of Eliot Waugh [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719526
Comments: 15
Kudos: 114





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Good morning. This installment has two parts. It can't really be read as a stand-alone. Also, it takes place about four months after the previous installment, so Quentin is in his third year at Brakebills. Eliot's father will be in this story, so if that's triggering for anyone, just please be aware. 
> 
> Also, there are a lot of grammatical/spelling errors. There were deliberate, and painful.

_ Quentin _

Quentin was exhausted when he stepped out of the infirmary that evening, relieved to see the sun hadn’t set yet. His hands were cramped as he reached for his cell phone in his pocket, powering it on as he started the walk towards the cottage. 

His brow furrowed when he saw he had five missed text messages, all from Eliot. Figuring it was probably a preemptive argument over dinner, he was already starting to smile when he opened the conversation.

_ “Q, could you skip Lipson today? I need you here.” _

_ “Fuck, I guess I missed you. If you get this, please leave?” _

_ “It’s not an emergency.” _

_ “It is an emergency, but there’s no blood or anything.” _

And two hours later:  _ “Q?” _

“Fuck,” he sighed, increasing his pace to hurry across campus towards the cottage and the portal that would lead him to Eliot, his mind a flurry of possible catastrophes. Was Eliot sick? Had something happened with his job? He was a nervous wreck by the time he stepped through the portal into Eliot’s living room, where he found his boyfriend at the end of the sofa, his face resting in his hand. 

“El?”

Eliot looked up, relief clear on his features as he sighed. Quentin noticed a glass half full of amber liquor and several papers on the coffee table.

“I’m sorry, I got stuck with Caroline, I wouldn’t have gone if I’d known something was wrong,” he rushed to explain, taking a seat next to Eliot. “What happened?”

Eliot’s lips twitched with emotion, his brow wrinkling. He gave up speaking after a moment, reaching for a set of folded papers and handing them over to Quentin. Confused, he straightened the lines of the copied pages, scanning over the slanting cursive with widening eyes that jumped to the beginning to start over.

_ Dear Eliot, _

_ We have never met, and I hate to be introducing myself for such terrible reasons. My name is Kara Powell (maiden name Hulsey, but I doubt you’d remember me from school), and I’m your sister-in-law. I’m writing to tell you that Alex passed away today. Our lawyer let us know he was finally able to track you down by your work address, so you should be getting this pretty quick after I’m done putting it to paper; he said he could email it. _

_ It was cancer. Hodgkin lymphoma. The only thing I can really be thankful for is it gave Alex plenty of time to try to put things right. He talked about trying to find you before any of this happened, but never quite worked up the nerve. We started trying once he was diagnosed, but didn’t have any luck until recently.  _

_ He knew there was no way to really apologize to you, so he’s leaving you his part of the farm. Your father had it divided up a few years back when his health got too bad to do the work himself. Most of it is leased out now, so it wouldn’t require much from you, and it’s a steady bit of money. You’d have to go over some paperwork with the lawyer, so I’m hoping it’s not too much to ask that you come for the funeral. It’s Friday. I had it put off a couple of days to give you time to get here. New York’s a bit far and I know all of this is going to be a shock for you. If you don’t want to come, I’ll understand. I’m putting Mr. Wilson’s card in the envelope. You don’t have to talk to me at all, if you don’t want. I know things were bad for you here. Alex talked about it sometimes, when he’d had a few. But I’m putting my number on the back of the card, just in case. _

_ But I am sending a letter from him. He wrote it a few months back and didn’t have anywhere to send it. I’ve held onto it, and even if you don’t come, I hope it gives you some comfort. _

_ Love, _

_ Kara _

Quentin’s hand fell to his lap with the letter still held in it. It took a moment before he was able to form any kind of question as he looked at Eliot. “Didn’t… Alex bullied you too, didn’t he?”

“I mean, yeah,” Eliot said softly, his voice strained. He leaned forward to grab what Quentin assumed was bourbon from the table, draining nearly half of it before lighting a cigarette with frustrated motions, as if he was angry he craved it. “You should read the other one.”

“Oh, um. Yeah.” Quentin shuffled Kara’s letter behind the second page, seeing a much sloppier written letter, the shadows of wrinkles left on the copy that had been printed.

_ Eliot, _

_ I don’t really know what to say. I’m dying so I guess I can say anything I want, right? I’m not going to ask you to forgive me. I don’t need that and I don’t deserve it. I never even got what everyone thought was wrong with you until high school. I just went along with Dad and Tatum. I didn’t think there was another choice. I guess that makes me a shitty person. Someone who never even thought to stand up for their own brother.  _

_ I didn’t think of you much until I got with Kara. We got serious fast but she wouldn’t introduce me to her family. Turned out it was because her sister Cindy has a wife and she didn’t know how I’d take that. We were kind of in limbo because of it because she’d already decided if I was ugly about it we were over. And the stupid thing is I didn’t understand why she would think something like that of me. She had to spell it out for me. Maybe you remember I wasn’t the smartest kid in school haha. But I was never really shitty to you for being gay. I was just shitty because everyone else was. Why do I give a shit if you’re gay? Why should anyone? God I guess. But it’s none of my business what you do. _

_ I met Cindy and her wife Tabatha. There good people. Really good with Amanda. That’s your niece, and if she ain’t just like you were as a kid. I think its God’s way of reminding me I fucked up by you. I don’t know what I would have done given another chance. I wasn’t much older than you, and smaller than you by the time you took off. And I was just as scared of Dad as anyone. Still I should have done something, even if it got me hit.  _

_ I’m not leaving you the land because I think you need it. Wilson wasn’t able to track down much on you, even after he found out you changed your name. What the fuck is Waugh anyway? I want you to have it because Dad wouldn’t divide it out to you in the first place. I did stand up for you. You weren’t here to see it and it didn’t matter by the time I got the balls to do it. But me and him haven’t been good for a while now. And Tatum still follows him around like a shadow with no mind of his own.  _

_ I hope your okay. Wilson said you were enrolled at some college in New York a few years ago but he couldn’t track you down after that. I’m sure your doing well for yourself. You were always really smart. Before Mom passed, she used to say we’d see you on TV someday.  _

_ I just really have one wish. I want you to meet Amanda. Even if it’s just once. I’d rather have you in her life, but I can understand if that’s not something you want. Who would want to come back here at all after living in New York? But if you could do that one thing for me, I’ll rest easy. I know it doesn’t matter now, but I am sorry Eliot.  _

_ Alex _

Quentin took a deep breath as he settled the pages in his lap. “Fuck.”

“Indeed,” Eliot replied quietly, the ash on his cigarette long as he stared ahead at nothing.

“Um. What are you gonna do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, have you talked to Wicke? Are they gonna let you off to handle this?”

Eliot turned toward him slightly, just enough to make eye contact. “I probably don’t need it.” He gestured to all the other papers scattered across the desk. “The attorney, Wilson, sent a bunch of shit about my options. I can just sell it off.”

“But… what about the funeral?”

Eliot’s face contorted painfully before he turned away. “Q, I can’t.”

“El…” Tossing the letters to the coffee table, Quentin moved towards Eliot, moving his arm out of the way to rest against his side. Eliot immediately embraced him around the shoulders but didn’t face him. “I know you don’t give a shit about your dad’s land or whatever, but… you have a niece.”

“Shit, Quentin. I probably have a few, if I remember how many girls Tatum was fucking in high school. Nephews, too. Are you saying I should fucking care?”

Quentin ignored the warning in Eliot’s tone. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t?”

Eliot angrily crushed out his cigarette, then finished the drink in his hand. When he didn’t speak, Quentin forced himself to try again, fully knowing it could end with him sleeping in the cottage that night. “Look. I’m not trying to tell you what to do. But I don’t think you’re upset because they had the nerve to reach out to you after everything you went through.”

“Oh? Then enlighten me.”

Quentin sighed. “El, I think you’re grieving.” Eliot went rigid against him. “And I think that’s making you angry. But it doesn’t  _ have  _ to make sense. Family usually doesn’t. And… I’m here. Whatever you decide.”

It took a few moments before Eliot relaxed against him again, falling limp against the arm of the sofa. Quentin moved with him, content to sit in silence through whatever storm was passing through Eliot’s thoughts. 

It felt like hours passed before Eliot spoke again, his voice raw and hesitant. “Would you go with me?”

“Don’t ask that, you know I wouldn’t let you go alone.”

“Your class, though.”

“Fuck that. It can wait.” Quentin sat up to turn Eliot’s face towards him, smoothing his thumb over the vertical lines etched in his brow. “I love you. I’ll be there.”

Eliot nodded, his hazel eyes full of fear and sorrow. He wet his lips and bit down on the lower one until Quentin tapped at his mouth, afraid of the pressure he was applying. “What first? Let me help you.”

“Um… I guess I call his wife?”

“Okay. Do you want me to handle a hotel and a car?”

Eliot nodded, looking dazed, but his vision cleared momentarily as something seemed to occur to him. “Get something outside of Whiteland; whatever they’ve got there, we probably don’t want it.”

“Okay.” Quentin agreed, giving Eliot his space to retrieve the laptop that was charging on the kitchen counter. He was searching hotels when he heard Eliot speak.

“Hi, is this Kara? Yeah… it’s Eliot.”

*

They portaled into a copse of trees across the street from the rental car company on Thursday morning, crossing the highway with their small amount of luggage before entering the beige building to retrieve the keys to a silver Buick. 

From there, Eliot followed the GPS to their hotel, while Quentin watched through the car windows, quietly shocked by how  _ flat  _ everything was. He couldn’t find a single structure over two stories tall, and everything in sight was paved, with only small trees dotting the borders of the businesses and lawns until they reached the interstate. 

The hotel looked decent enough when they arrived, with an actual three floors and a clean, inviting lobby. Quentin approached the counter to check in while Eliot waited, and together they entered the elevator to go to their room. It was dark, two of the walls paneled with imitation mahogany, but there was plenty of space to hang their suits and free wi-fi, so nothing more was really needed. 

“What time is it?” Eliot asked as he emptied his overnight bag onto the surface of the dresser. 

“Um.” Quentin reached for his phone. “Just after nine. We’ve got time.”

“Well, not for what I wanted,” he replied, sounding exhausted and flirtatious at the same time. Quentin laughed, because he honestly couldn’t imagine Eliot trying to have sex with him at the moment, especially since they’d already had it twice last night and once again just after dawn, both of them barely awake. 

The visitation was scheduled to start at ten, and Kara had assured Eliot that her sister would meet them outside, though he’d argued against the offer of any special treatment. 

Quentin quickly dressed in the one black suit he owned, grateful he’d let Margo purchase it for him on one of their many shopping excursions. He allowed Eliot to straighten his lines and adjust his tie before turning away to remove his own suit from its garment bag. It consisted of a crisp white shirt and charcoal waistcoat, with black jacket and trousers, and a matching black tie. His pocket square matched his waistcoat and his tie clip was silver to match the rings on his fingers. He’d left no detail overlooked and had packed his most expensive leather dress shoes, which also had silver buckles. 

Once he was dressed, Eliot silently presented himself to Quentin, who looked him over with an approving smile. “You’re perfect.”

Eliot rolled his eyes at that but returned the smile before going to look at his hair in the mirror. Quentin had never understood what imperfections he saw when he did this, but Eliot did move several strands of his waves to the side. Quentin wondered how much longer he’d win the argument against a haircut, as Eliot kept bringing it up more frequently. The ends of his curls nearly covered his ears now. But anytime he did threaten to make an appointment, Quentin would muse that he’d been thinking of cutting his own, which now more than brushed his shoulders. And Eliot would shut up for another week or two. 

Once Eliot seemed satisfied with his own appearance, he made Quentin take a seat on the edge of the bed and brushed his hair out, securing it in a neat knot at the nape of his neck and pulling a few strands to frame his face before kissing him gently. 

“I guess we’re ready,” he sighed, standing up to his full height and smoothing down the front of his jacket. “Did you get confirmation the flowers were delivered?”

“Oh. Yeah, right before we portaled in.” Quentin made sure he had his phone and his cigarettes before following Eliot into the hall and back down to their car. 

They were quiet as Eliot navigated them onto the interstate again, and Quentin didn’t comment when he eventually turned the GPS off before taking an exit that led to a four-lane highway. Quentin watched the scenery pass through the window; a subdivision, a school, a church. Rinse and repeat, with only slight variations. After a few miles, the road narrowed to two lanes and the fields grew larger, filled with so much fucking  _ corn  _ he could barely believe it. 

“Oh, um, we’re coming up on the old homestead, if you’re interested,” Eliot murmured, pointing to a distant white house on the edge of the road. Quentin sat up in interest as they approached, but there was nothing really interesting about the house Eliot had grown up in, other than it looked a bit depressing with its faded white paint and crooked shutters. He could see several buildings behind the house, further from the road, and a barn beyond those. 

“So, how much of this corn belongs to your dad?”

“The corn? Probably none of it, now. We’ve been driving through the land for a bit, though. I can’t really believe he was smart enough to give up on it; my dad was shit at running a farm.”

Eliot took another turn, the road even narrower now and not as well maintained. They drove through a run down commercial area for several blocks before Quentin could no longer keep up with all the turns Eliot was making. 

Eventually, he turned into a parking lot, and if it weren’t for the sign advertising it as a funeral home, Quentin would have thought it possibly belonged to an insurance agency. It really looked no different than some of the houses he’d seen on their drive, though somewhat larger. 

In the parking lot, Quentin saw two well-dressed women leaning against the trunk of a car, one of them petite with fiery red hair, and the other a tall, elegant black woman with a halo of curls. “Oh, Dad must  _ love  _ that,” Eliot drawled, turning the car into a free parking space. 

“Oh, he’s racist too?” Quentin quipped. Eliot only snorted, parking the car and pulling the key from the ignition. He didn’t move to leave the car, however, only staring through the windshield with distant eyes, his hands loose on the steering wheel. Quentin reached to settle a hand on his thigh and Eliot turned towards him with quiet terror in his eyes. “We’ve got this, El.”

“Mm-hm.” Eliot’s hand moved to grip his tightly. “Fuck, Q,” he breathed.

“I know. But I’ll be right next to you, okay? And I can throw a punch if I need to.”

Eliot snickered at that, giving him an adoring glance. “You are scrappy,” he agreed.

Quentin leaned over the console to press his lips against Eliot’s. “Let’s go, huh?”

Eliot nodded, and they left the virtual safety of the car to step onto the asphalt of the parking lot. Eliot smoothed non-existent wrinkles from his jacket as he met Quentin at the trunk of the vehicle to walk towards the women Quentin assumed were Cindy and Tabitha. 

“Good Morning,” Eliot greeted them, all casual politeness without a touch of the anxiety he’d just been drowning in. 

The redhead smiled brightly. “Eliot?”

“That would be me. This is Quentin, my boyfriend.”

“It’s nice to meet you both,” she told them. “Cindy, of course, and this is my wife, Tabitha.” Tabitha waved her hand, a cigarette held between her fingers. She was gorgeous up close, with a smattering of freckles across her nose and large, golden eyes. 

Everyone exchanged pleasantries and then Tabitha reached in a small purse at her hip, drawing out what was very obviously a weed pen. “Anyone else?” she asked with a lift of her perfectly manicured brows.

“Well, you’re officially my favorite,” Eliot smoothly replied, taking the pen once she’d inhaled from it. Quentin declined, sharing a smile with Cindy. Everyone but Cindy smoked a cigarette after that, watching as cars began to turn into the parking lot one by one. 

“Ready?” Cindy asked them, not really waiting for a response before taking Tabitha’s arm and heading towards the front doors. Quentin took Eliot’s hand in his and followed. 

The lobby within the building was possibly the ugliest room Quentin had ever laid eyes on, full of mismatched furniture that looked like it had been pilfered from some grandmother’s house, all of it resting on a horrid brick red carpet. Eliot made a vague noise of disgust as they stepped further into the room. 

There was also an unpleasant odor that tickled Quentin’s nose, musty and antiseptic at the same time. He wondered if that was normal for a funeral home; he’d never attended a funeral. He wondered if Eliot had. 

Cindy led them further into the room, and Quentin watched her walk ahead to approach a slightly taller woman. The resemblance was obvious, though Kara’s hair was more strawberry blonde and her features all a bit more elongated than Cindy’s. He watched Kara find them across the room, a nervous smile gracing her thin mouth as she hurried to meet them. 

Eliot fumbled a bit as she immediately pulled him down into a hug, squeezing before she allowed him to stand upright again. Her green eyes were wide as she looked him over. “My God, you must be a head taller than Alex!” she exclaimed. “But I’d know those eyes anywhere.” Her gaze swept him up and down. “And handsome, too.” Eliot only blinked at her, still stunned by her familiarness.

She then looked to Quentin, who felt trapped under her eager stare. “And you’re Quentin.”

“I, uh, yeah. That’s me.”

And then he was being hugged, too. 

“Sorry,” she said as she released him. “I know I’m supposed to be crying my eyes out today, but it’s been six months of that. Today’s just really a good-bye for everyone else, you know? It’s nice to meet you both.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Eliot finally managed to speak. 

“How was your flight?” she asked. “I’m glad you were able to get one on such short notice.”

“Oh, it was, um. Fine. Short,” Eliot lied. 

As Kara started to question Eliot on their hotel and if it was nice enough, Quentin saw a flash of dark curls across the room, and watched as a bony little girl darted between the mourners, the navy skirt of her dress floating over her spindly legs as she skipped his way, quickly tucking herself behind Kara’s skirt. 

“Oh, there she is,” Kara laughed, stepping to her side to reveal her daughter to Eliot. “This is Amanda. Can you say hi to your uncle Eliot?”

Quentin’s breath caught in his throat as the girl looked up at Eliot with large eyes identical to Eliot’s own. She also had a very visible dimple in her chin as she smiled bashfully up at him with a crooked mouth. And for the first time in his life, Quentin understood the term “baby fever.” 

“Why, hello,” Eliot greeted her, kneeling a bit because the girl didn’t even reach his hip. Amanda’s eyes widened with delight. “I like your dress.”

Amanda’s eyebrows rose dramatically and then she was hiding behind her mother again, giggling. Eliot stood, smiling at Kara. “She’s precious.”

“She’s a handful and a damn brat,” Kara laughed. “But I keep her anyway. I should probably go play the widow now, but I’ll be on the lookout for your old man. If he stirs any shit today, he’s gonna be paying his respects out in the yard.”

Before either Eliot or Quentin could reply, Kara turned and walked briskly away, Amanda clinging to her skirts like she was dancing in a conga line. 

Eliot looked a bit overwhelmed, and Quentin smoothed a hand down his back. “Well, she’s something.”

“Something, yeah. And I think I halfway recognize every person in this room, but fuck if I can put a name to a single one.” He blinked, eyes narrowing. “Except that’s definitely my Aunt Jen. Gross.”

Quentin laughed under his breath. 

They eventually found themselves grouped up with Cindy and Tabitha again and were discussing all the changes in Whiteland Eliot had missed (unsurprisingly very few) when Quentin noticed Eliot go completely still at his side. 

Eyes darting around the lobby, he noticed two men had entered through the front doors, and immediately knew it was Eliot’s father and his oldest brother Tatum. They were of a similar height, and neither were dressed appropriately for a visitation, wearing worn jeans and faded button downs. They weren’t alone in that, however; there were several men in the room who looked like they’d dressed as nicely as possible, but maybe didn’t own formal clothes. 

Quentin ran his hand under Eliot’s suit jacket and held it at the small of his back, reminding him he was there as he watched Allen Powell recognize Eliot, staring for a moment before muttering something to his oldest son and heading towards the viewing room. Tatum followed, and his glare fixed on Quentin.

Quentin smiled coldly back at him. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good morning! I have to admit, this chapter is emotionally rough. Please take care of yourselves.

_ Eliot _

Eliot felt like a balloon on a string as Quentin led him up the concrete path towards the home of his deceased brother that evening. He wondered where he’d be without Quentin’s frequent, subtle prodding over the last 24 hours. Possibly still on their sofa. 

Quentin had made the hotel reservations and the arrangements for the rental car. Quentin had ordered the bouquet of lilies for the visitation and chosen the message for the attached card. Quentin had forced him out of the car this morning. Quentin had led him into the visitation room with its closed casket and collage of family photos displayed at each end. Quentin had calmed Kara down after a very obvious, very hushed argument she’d had with his father in the kitchen that Eliot had only just barely avoided walking into. Quentin had driven them to the attorney’s office afterwards, only flubbing the GPS directions once. 

It had been left to Eliot to speak to Mr. Wilson regarding his wishes for the property left to him, and he’d managed to absorb the details of what would be required to transfer any earnings from the lease agreement into a very modest trust fund for Amanda. Eliot wanted no part of that money. He hadn’t wanted it before coming back to Whiteland, and he definitely didn’t want it now, after his father had done his damnedest to make a scene all day over Eliot’s presence, refusing to leave even after no one would join him in his resentment. There had certainly been whispered words of agreement in quiet corners, however, the older generation of the Powells and their offshoots scandalized that Eliot had shown up after “abandoning” the family, after missing his own  _ mother’s  _ funeral. And to show up with a man on his arm, no less. Shocking. Indecent. Still, Eliot supposed they all had decided it would be improper to cause a “scene.”

And oh, Quentin had been a lion today. Always ready to step between Eliot and every judgmental glance, daring anyone with his eyes to do more than whisper or stare. A lot of their day had been spent outside the rear entrance of the funeral home with Carrie and Tabitha, smoking cigarettes and cursing about everyone else. Kara had joined them twice. 

Which was why they were here now, with Quentin knocking on the red front door. Kara had insisted Eliot and Quentin come for dinner before returning to the hotel, claiming she had enough food to feed the entire town. 

It was Tabitha that met them at the door, gesturing for them to enter and Eliot stepped behind Quentin into a long hall, painted a comforting blue and absolutely filled with framed photographs. He could see part of a dining table at the end of the hall and also glimpsed Amanda pass by the doorway. 

“How was the lawyer?” Tabitha asked as she led them through the house. Eliot glanced at the family portraits, seeing his brother at an age he never had before, but still with the crew cut that had kept his own curls in check. “I hope not too bad, after the clusterfuck this morning.”

“Mama, Tabby said clutterfuck!” Amanda cried and Quentin covered his mouth as Eliot snickered, shocked out of his study of the photos. 

“Tabby’s old enough, you’re not,” was all Kara said in response as they entered the room. She was standing by an open dishwasher, now wearing jeans and a faded t-shirt that was far too large on her frame. 

“It was bearable,” Eliot answered Tabitha, shrugging off his suit jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair. “You’ll have some papers to sign, Kara.”

Kara looked up from where she was unloading plates, her brow wrinkled. “Eliot, I know we just met, but if you’re trying to sign that land over to me, we will wrestle. And I’ll win.”

“I somehow have no doubt,” he replied, gesturing for Quentin to sit down next to him once Tabitha had taken the chair she wanted. He didn’t see Cindy, and wondered if she was smoking or just in another room. “No, I’m signing the profits over to Amanda, for when she’s older. You can refuse to agree, of course, but I’ll just send checks if you don’t.”

She glared at him pointedly. “That’s a dick move.”

“Mama, you said--”

“Can it, munchkin,” Kara interrupted, but without any heat before looking back to Eliot. “That’s her favorite word these days.”

“Hm, mine too.”

Tabitha snorted and Quentin kicked Eliot’s shin. 

“What’s a profit?” Amanda asked, rounding the table to look up at him. 

“I guess in your case, it would be like a present,” he told her. “Except not that fun, and you can’t have it until you’re a grown up.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Isn’t it?”

“You wanna see the horse I drew today? It’s green.”

“Of course I do. Can you bring it to me?”

“Yep!” Amanda dashed from the room and Eliot watched Quentin’s eyes follow her. Every time he’d seen the little girl today, Eliot wondered if Quentin had somehow managed to forget men couldn’t get pregnant. It was amusing, if mildly terrifying. Eliot had assumed they had years before the topic of children would be approached, if ever. Maybe if he ignored it?

Amanda’s shoes clapped down the hall moments later, and she came skidding to a stop right before she bashed her shoulder into the table, presenting him with a piece of copy paper that definitely had a reasonable facsimile of a horse on it. Or a cow. Maybe a pig. “Well, this is obviously a masterpiece,” he told her. 

“I know!”

Eliot looked over his shoulder towards the fridge, seeing it was already covered with the girl’s artwork. “It looks like you’ve been busy. This one might have to wait until there’s some room.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got a big board in my room for all the other ones.”

“Well, that’s good.” And then, there was a bundle of tiny girl crawling up into his lap.  _ Oh, Q’s gonna love this,  _ he sighed inwardly as he helped his niece settle in. 

Cindy did appear then, entering from the back door just outside the kitchen, and she smiled as she passed to help Kara set out plates and silverware, also removing several glass dishes from the oven when a timer went off. Eliot could  _ feel  _ Quentin’s eyes on him, so he focused on the food on the stove instead. “So, what are our choices of grief casseroles this evening?” he teased as Amanda began tugging at the rings on his fingers. 

Kara shot him a glance that clearly said she appreciated his humor and looked over the collection of pans. “Tonight, we’ve got a spinach ravioli thing that looks like it’s mostly just cheese, so I also heated up some roasted brussels sprouts for nutritional value.” Amanda made a disgusted noise in protest, falling back against Eliot’s chest and almost cracking her skull against his chin in the process. “And then some baked tacos just for fun. And because it’s all she’s likely to eat.” She jutted her chin towards her daughter. 

Kara forced Amanda to leave Eliot’s lap for dinner, and with a child present, conversation circled around safe topics, like who had dropped off each dish, how many sweet potato pies had been delivered (four), and unexpected visitors at the funeral home that had included Alex’s junior year prom date who had moved to Illinois years ago. 

Eliot helped clear the table and rinse the dishes, and Amanda was sent to her room to play before bed. Cindy brought down a bottle of Maker’s Mark from a cabinet as soon as the girl left the room, and Tabitha said a soft “hallelujah” before retrieving coffee mugs to drink it from. 

When Kara pushed a mug towards Quentin, he pushed it towards Eliot instead. “Driving,” he reminded her.

“Q, you can have  _ one,”  _ Eliot told him, sliding it back to him. 

“I agree, you’ve spent the whole day looking like a human livewire,” Kara said, sipping from her own mug and pulling a disgusted face afterwards. “Fuck.”

“I take it this isn’t your beverage of choice?” Eliot asked.

“No, this was Alex’s. I’m more of a Strawberita girl,” she laughed. 

“Don’t tell people that,” Cindy admonished her. “I have to claim you.” 

“Hey, I’ll drink anything tonight if it helps me get through tomorrow,” Kara replied, pouring another shot into the mug. “And I swear to God if Tatum doesn’t wash that muddy fucking truck of his before the procession, I’m gonna stab all four tires.”

“I’ll hand you the knife,” Tabitha told her. “I think I’ve had my fill of good ol’ white boys today.”

Eliot chuckled. “Wrong town then, dear.” 

“No joke.” Her eyes met his from over her cup. “Your dad ever get the balls to say anything to your face?” 

Eliot glanced away from her, smirking coldly. “No, not quite. I had my bodyguard, you know.” He reached for Quentin’s hand, receiving an annoyed look for his comment. “But he managed to make it clear I wasn’t wanted.”

“Yeah, well it wasn’t his fucking funeral,” Kara growled. “Alex may have seen him five times since he got diagnosed. And the motherfucker couldn’t even trouble himself to buy a tie.” She glanced towards him. “You’re still coming tomorrow, right?”

He nodded. “I’ll probably make things worse, but I planned to. Unless…”

“No, I want you there, I just wasn’t sure. Most of the dinosaurs won’t show, but it’ll be a smaller crowd. I’ll probably be busy with Amanda, I’m not sure how she’s going to handle it. It hasn’t really hit her yet.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Eliot told her. “You have enough on your plate.”

She waved her hand. “Oh, trust me. None of this is anything compared to what it was. It’s…” She shook her head, looking guilty. “It’s a goddamn relief, honestly. All this has been planned out and paid down for months; I just have to show up, really. I think Jen was a little offended that I didn’t cry today, the old bitch. Like I haven’t been crying for the last year.”

“She is an old bitch,” Eliot agreed, reaching for the bottle to pour another shot. “That much I remember.”

Kara laughed. “Every time I saw her scowling today, I remembered that story Alex used to tell me about that water balloon fight behind the church.”

Eliot barked out a laugh, surprising himself. He’d completely forgotten. “Yeah, when she got hit and everyone could see the cartoon lips all over her bra.  _ Jesus.”  _

“Wait, you mean the lady in the purple thing?” Quentin asked.

“Yes,” Kara snickered. 

“Fuck, that’s a lot of bra,” he deadpanned, looking mildly disturbed.

That sent Cindy into giggles, and soon Kara and Eliot were trading stories the other had missed, about their mutual relatives, and about Alex. He filled her in on all the more amusing mishaps of their childhood, skipping over the traumatic bits, and Kara’s favorite topics were all of Alex’s fuck ups as a new father, a few of which had the whole table in hysterics.

It was quite late when Quentin began dropping hints that they should probably head back to the hotel, and there were many failed attempts to leave before the two men actually got out the door, Quentin pushing Eliot towards the passenger side of the car before getting behind the wheel and programming the GPS.

“Q, I can tell you where to go,” Eliot said.

“I watched you take seven shots in there, El. I’m not sure I’d trust your sense of direction right now.”

“That’s fair. I’ll probably feel like shit tomorrow.”

“Yeah, well that was a given either way, so don’t feel bad about it,” he replied, looking over his shoulder to back out of the driveway. “I like them, though. Too bad they live so far away.”

“Well, maybe we’ll visit in another ten years,” Eliot sighed.

“You think you’ll wait that long?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we could invite them to New York instead.”

“That’d be interesting.”

The remaining drive to the hotel was quiet, both of them exhausted as they entered their room afterwards and undressed, carefully hanging everything to wear again in the morning. Eliot considered climbing on top of his boyfriend once they slipped under the covers, but Quentin honestly looked so worn out he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He wrapped himself around his back instead, kissing his shoulder. “Thank you for today.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Quentin chuckled in the darkness. “I may actually resort to violence tomorrow.”

“I’ll just think it’s sexy.”

“Yeah, well Kara probably wouldn’t.”

“Hm. Maybe not sexy, but she’d probably have a trophy made for you.”

“Great, I could add it to all the Math League ones in my dad’s garage.”

“Stop flirting with me,” Eliot warned, playfully biting at his neck and Quentin snorted.

“Yes, because that’s what I was doing,” he said in a sarcastic tone. “Go to sleep, Eliot.”

“Yes,  _ sir,” _ he couldn’t help but reply, but it only took a few minutes before he did exactly that. 

*

_ Quentin _

Eliot drove the next morning, stopping at a convenience store for ibuprofen and a cheap bouquet of yellow daisies before they left for Whiteland again. “What are these for?” Quentin asked as Eliot handed them over to swallow down the pills.

“Oh, um. Kara told me my mom is buried near Alex’s plot. I thought I’d leave them. I know they’re terrible, but daisies were her favorite. I saw them in there and figured why not?”

“Oh. Okay. How’s your head?”

Eliot grimaced, starting the car. “I’ve had worse, but the sooner this is over with, the better I’ll feel.”

Eliot had declined Kara’s offer to join the funeral procession, so they drove directly to the cemetery, easily finding the short line of cars and parking behind them. Eliot took the small bouquet from Quentin as they walked through the lines of grave markers, seeing the tent set up for the ceremony in the distance.

Noticing Eliot was scanning the names on the stones, Quentin began to look as well, and he was the one who found the grave, pulling on Eliot’s hand. It was small, carved from an almost pink granite. There was no quote or endearment on the plaque, really, just her name, the dates she’d lived through and a simple “wife and mother.” 

Eliot looked down at the marker with a sad little smile, bending to leave the spray of flowers on the top. But then he reached into the pocket of his suit, and Quentin watched him place a handful of familiar looking buttons on the stone. He didn’t speak, and Quentin had to blink away tears as he imagined Eliot packing the buttons before they’d left, not mentioning them at all. But Eliot was already pulling him away to walk to his brother’s grave. 

Kara had warned them there wouldn’t be as many people in attendance today, but it was a stark contrast to the visitation. As she embraced them both, Quentin heard the closing of another car door, and turned to see an unfamiliar couple approaching. Other than that, there were only a dozen or so people waiting on the minister to arrive, and only a dozen feet of distance from where Eliot’s father stood on the other side of the casket. 

Amanda left Cindy’s side to run up to Eliot, tugging on his jacket and holding up her arms. Quentin smiled as Eliot made a “well, okay” face and easily picked her up. She wasn’t the excited little girl they’d seen yesterday; she looked confused and anxious this morning, and it hurt his heart. 

Making sure Eliot was okay to deal with Amanda for a few minutes, Kara made the rounds, accepting condolences and embraces. Quentin was relieved to see her only exchange a few words with Allen and Tatum, a clear warning in her expression before it shifted into a deep weariness as she walked away. 

The minister arrived minutes later, shaking hands with several people and embracing Kara lightly before taking a few moments to speak with her. Amanda refused to be put down, and Eliot assured Cindy he was fine to hold her unless Kara wanted her close. Quentin was already growing uncomfortably warm in his suit, and he couldn’t imagine how Eliot felt in his extra layer with a child clinging to him. 

Kara did come to stand near Eliot when the service began, probably in case Amanda needed to be taken from him. But as the minister spoke, the girl only looked around curiously, her eyes occasionally glancing off the casket and away again. 

It wasn’t until the casket started its descent into the ground that Quentin just barely heard Amanda whisper, “My daddy’s in there, right?”

Eliot pressed his lips together tightly, his hazel eyes shining. Quentin was surprised when he shook his head “Not really, sweetie.”

“Oh. So it’s okay?”

“Yeah. This is just here so you can visit, okay?”

Amanda nodded, accepting that answer, but her eyes were fixed on the large spray of flowers covering the casket as it was lowered into the ground. Once she couldn’t see it anymore, she did turn in Eliot’s arms, reaching for her mother. Eliot easily handed her off, making sure Kara’s petite frame had a hold of her before letting go, and Quentin had to look away as the little girl buried her face in her mother’s neck, silent. 

And then, it was over. 

Several somber conversations sprang up under and around the tent, and Quentin hugged Cindy and Tabitha when they approached him to say good-bye, while Eliot embraced Kara and dropped a kiss on the top of Amanda’s curly hair. 

Then, the men traded, and Quentin had his arms full of Kara, with Amanda squashed between them. “You take care of that man,” Kara whispered loudly near his ear. “And make sure he calls sometimes. He’s still got family here, whether he likes it or not.”

“I’ll do that,” Quentin promised. 

Eliot was waiting off to the side of the gravesite when Quentin pulled away from Kara, and he caught up to him, taking his hand to return to the car. “Can we just portal out of the hotel room?” Eliot asked tiredly.

“We have to take the car back,” Quentin reminded him.

“Fuck. Couldn’t we just abandon it?”

“Yeah, I don’t really want those charges on my credit card.”

“I should have asked Margo to put it on hers.”

“Wait, does Margo even know we’re here?”

“Well, I--”

“Eliot!”

_ You are fucking kidding me. _

Both men turned to see Eliot’s father approaching, with Kara trying to catch up to him, and Cindy not far behind her. Eliot waved both the women off with a gesture and a look before his eyes went cold to focus on the man before him. “Hi, Dad.”

Allen slowed to a stop a few yards away from them. “Kara told me you’re giving the money from that land to Alex’s girl,” he spoke, looking at Eliot like he was both a disappointment and a joke. “You know they’re set for life, right? Insurance. They didn’t need the money. Or was cashing a check every month still too much work for you?”

“You know, I’ve always wondered about your little obsession with telling me how lazy I am,” Eliot mused, his tone light but his eyes full of fire. “I guess we remember things differently.”

“I’m just wondering why you’d walk away from that. Who are you trying to impress?” He looked Eliot up and down with disdain. “Or did you want a thank you?”

Eliot laughed. “I don’t want  _ anything  _ from you. And  _ I  _ don’t need the money. I worked my ass off to get where I am without a red cent from you or that fucking piece of dirt.”

“That piece of dirt kept you fed, Eliot.”

Eliot titled his head. “Did it? I seem to remember the EBT card doing that most of the time. Now, if you don’t have any more questions for me about my choices, my  _ boyfriend  _ and I are in a hurry to get home.”

Allen only glared at the barbed disclosure and Eliot sighed, turning away. Quentin followed, taking his hand on their way to the rental. “You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” Eliot replied, almost sounding sincere. “But next time we see Kara, it’s definitely going to be at home.”

“I’m good with that. I’m proud of you, though.”

Eliot glanced at him from the side of his eye, smiling a bit. “I didn’t do too bad, I guess.”

“It was kind of hot, really.”

“Was it? I can go back and really let him have it, if you want.”

Quentin snickered, and Eliot was giggling by the time they reached the car. 

They never returned to Whiteland, Indiana.

  
  
  



End file.
